


A Million Different Possibilities (But I Only Want the One With You In It)

by nicoleaf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Johns, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Gryffindor John, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallel Universes, Slytherin Sherlock, fem!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleaf/pseuds/nicoleaf
Summary: The walls between universes are thin in the living room of 221b Baker Street. Sometimes various John Watsons from various alternate universes appear there, much to Sherlock's amusement and John's annoyance.Oddly enough there seems to be no universe where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are not together in some way.





	1. Gryffindor!John

John Watson was sitting in the living room of 221b, but it was not the John Watson that Sherlock had come to know. Instead this Watson was much younger, 16 if he was correct, and he was not often wrong.

This John lounged in the usual John's chair, draped in dark robes that were flung open to reveal a pair of tight black trousers, a rumpled dress shirt, and a red and gold tie flung over his shoulder, knot loosened as if someone had been tugging at it roughly.

Sherlock noted the beginning of a string of bruises along the other John's neck and shoulder. No doubt this John had just been in the throws of a hormone fueled make out session that teenagers were so fond of.

Other John stared at him, one eyebrow cocked at him amusedly. His chest rose and fell as he panted, eyes wide and pupils blown.

"S-sherlock?" Other John asked, giving him a once over. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, though more than likely not the one you're familiar with." John shook his head, eyes wide in shock. Sherlock smirked.

"The names Sherlock Holmes, but you know that. I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world," he boasted, a wry smile playing over his lips as the other John stared up at him. "You're currently in London, at 221b Baker Street, the flat I share with my partner, an ex army medic and doctor by the name of John Watson, your counterpart."

"John, John Watson," other John raked his fingers through his hair, making it messier than it already was.

"I uh, I'm a student a Hogwarts. I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Chaser. We uh, just won the Quidditch cup against Hufflepuff." He added with a note of pride.

Sherlock didn't have the slightest clue what a Hufflepuff was, but Quidditch seemed to be some kind of sport considering the wind ruffled state of other John's hair and the light callouses on his hands, as well as the slight smell of sweat and grass John carried.

"Hogwarts?" Sherlock asked. Other John's robes proudly boasted a badge bearing that name and a seal, as well as another badge of a roaring lion with the word 'Gryffindor' stitched beneath it.

Other John gaped, "Haven't you heard of Hogwarts?" He stared at Sherlock, as if he had just told John that he disliked the taste of tea.

"I'm assuming that it is the school you attend. But that is besides the point." Other John shook his head in shock, but Sherlock continued. "The real question is how you came to be in my flat when you are so obviously not from this dimension."

"I- I dunno." Other John seemed to snap out of his reverie, a touch of panic setting in. "One minute I was finally- finally snogging the boy of my dreams after winning the house cup, and the next I'm here. Quite the boner killer really."

Sherlock assessed the other John, calculating each nervous fidget and the way Other John wouldn't look him in the eye.

"'The boy of your dreams,' am I correct to assume that that is my counterpart?" Sherlock asked with a quirked eyebrow. Other John's face flushed, turning a brilliant shade of cherry tomato red.

"I uh- um..." He stuttered out, palms sweating as he began to rake his hands through his hair again. Sherlock stifled a chuckle.

"It's quite alright. Most of the other Johns that stop through here are in some sort of relationship with one of my counterparts."

"There are... Other me's that show up here?" Other John asked, confused and curious.

"Oh yes, sometimes there will be another John here twice a week. Although more realistically they come one every couple of months. My John finds it quite annoying when they are here at the same time as him. Feels it's too confusing."

Sherlock smiled to himself, recalling the time a rather possessive John had arrived in their flat and clung to Sherlock while glaring at the real John as if they were children and the real John had threatened to take away his favorite toy.

Normally Sherlock would have been annoyed with such possessive behavior, but the way his John's face had flushed as he tried to brush off his frustrations with his counterpart was fascinating. And even better was the way John had taken him to bed once the other John had left and made sure that Sherlock knew exactly who his boyfriend was.

Sherlock didn't usually approve of possessive behavior, but in the bedroom, with John, it was downright arousing. They had shagged in just about every place you could in the flat, and on just about every surface. John always knowing exactly where to touch and thrust and caress to make Sherlock go wild.

Sherlock shook his head and collected his thoughts, looking back at the other John.

"So uh... How do I get back? I just... Sherlock- my Sherlock- and have been dancing around each other since first year and he's probably not pleased I disappeared in the middle of our first proper snog. " Other John fidgeted in his seat, a look of worry on his young face.

"Simply do something along the lines of what you were doing prior to arriving here." Sherlock replied flippantly, Other John looked disturbed.

"Oh for Chrissakes I'm not going to snog you. For one thing you're basically a child!" Sherlock ignored John's protests that sixteen was not a child. "And secondly, you're not my John. I only snog my John." Other John sighed in relief.

"I still will have to kiss you, but considering the situation a peck on the forehead would be much more appropriate." And with that Sherlock placed a light kiss on the other John's forehead and with a flash of brilliant white light, the other John was gone.

Sherlock sighed, turning on his heel towards the kitchen before calling out to the figure in the doorway.

"Tea?"

"I'd love some." The real John stepped forward, making his way to the kitchen before wrapping his arms around Sherlock and burying his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck.

"Damn right I'm the only John you get to snog." John's muffled declaration caused Sherlock to bubble over with laughter, tea forgotten as they explored eachother's mouths for what could have been the millionth time.


	2. Fem!John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan Watson arrives in 221b

“Sherlock?” A feminine and considerably higher pitched voice then what Sherlock was expecting to hear resonating throughout 221b. 

 

Placing his violin gently back into it’s case, Sherlock tentatively looked into the hallway leading to the bedroom. A short woman with a sharp brilliant blonde bob stared at him, she was dressed in an oatmeal colored sweater not unlike the one John was so fond of. Her hands were placed on her hips in an attempt to look menacing, but her short stature (she appeared to be about 5’2”), only served to make her look adorable. If Sherlock had fancied the fairer sex her probably would have found it endearing and cute.

 

Unfortunately, Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the woman’s attempt at being scary. Bad mistake. The woman launched herself at Sherlock, whipping him around and forcing him to the ground, digging a knee into his back.

 

“Where’s Sherlock and why are you here? Did Moriarty send you?” The blonde asked, anger radiating from her body like a cheap perfume from an American dollar store. 

 

“I am Sherlock.” Sherlock grit out, annoyance seeping out of his pores. “Just not your Sherlock, your Sherlock is more than likely back in _ your _ flat, in _ your  _ world.”

 

“What do you mean,  _ my _ world?” The blonde asked, confusion as well as agitation coloring her words. “This  _ is  _ my world.”

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not. In the world I live here with my flatmate and boyfriend, John Watson. I solve cases that the idiots at Scotland Yard are to dim to crack, and John writes about it on his blog.” John’s counterpart shook her head in confusion and disbelief, opening her mouth to protest. 

 

“Here,” Sherlock began before the woman could argue. “Look at this.” He whipped out his phone, swiftly unlocking it and opening up the camera app. John and he had a tradition of taking a picture at every crime scene since they had started dating. It began as a way to annoy Lestrade and his subordinates, but it had morphed into a tradition that both John and Sherlock looked forward to, each finding a way to make the picture sappier and more annoying to those around them. The latest picture in particular boasted a lovestruck John giving Sherlock a soppy kiss on the cheek as Sherlock beamed at the camera, a disgusted Anderson gracing the background. 

 

The female John flipped through the camera roll, her eyes growing wider and wider almost comically. 

 

“Well shit.” She breathed out, handing the phone back to Sherlock shakily.

 

“Well I guess an introduction is called for, my name is Joan Watson, I’m a former army doctor and currently work as both a doctor and blogger. I accompany my wife, Sherlock Holmes, on her cases and then write about them, helps with the PTSD ya know.” Joan reached out her slim hand, and Sherlock accepted it with a shake. 

“Glad to make your acquaintance, as previously mentioned I am Sherlock Holmes, and I solve cases with my boyfriend, John, who blogs about it.” Sherlock shook his head. “This must be quite a shock for you.” The very fine sheen of sweat on her browline and slightest slump to her shoulders betrayed her. 

 

“Well it’s not everyday one walks into their flat only to find that they’ve been transported into a strange upside down world where everyone has switched private parts.” Joan snarked, earning a wry smile from the tall curly haired man. 

 

“Touche.” Sherlock smirked.

 

“Now tell me, how did I get here, and how the hell do I get back home? My Sherlock will kill me if I miss date night, seeing as how it’s usually me reading her the riot act when she forgets.” Joan demanded, a soft smile betraying her otherwise demanding features at the fond thought of her wife.

 

“As to how you got here, the answer is a bit dodgy. You see there seems to be a bit of a tear in the universe right here in this very flat.” Sherlock stated, becoming rather animated as he gestured at a spot just above the skull on the mantle. “Somehow various different John Watsons-” Joan glared pointedly at him, “-Or Joan Watsons, sometimes slide through into this flat. John can’t stand it, claims it gives him a migraine and more gray hairs. Won’t listen to me about how absolutely fascinating it is.” Sherlock grumbled, a slight pout gracing his lips.

 

“Well how would you like it if another you just started walking ‘round your flat?” Joan asked, eyebrow cocked. “Just deducing everything and acting just like you?”

 

Sherlock chuckled, “That’s exactly what my John said.” His face turned thoughtful, “I suppose it would get annoying after a while, and perhaps a bit tedious, but it would be miles more interesting than a majority of the things that happen.”

 

This seemed to mollify Joan a bit, but she still asked a bit anxiously, “So if that’s how I got here, how do I get back?”

 

“Oh that’s the simple part.” Sherlock responded, growing a bit bored with the situation, really, why must all the different John Watson’s be so eager to go home before he could properly learn the intimate details of their respective universes? He supposed it was for the best, he couldn’t think of a John in any universe who would want to react to the intricacies of Victorian London and how minor differences in the timeline could have affected the present they lived in.

 

“Simple?” Joan prompted, her hand creeping up to nervously tug at her short hair.

 

“All you have to do is remember whatever you were doing right before you arrived here, and do that or something similar.” Sherlock told her, picking up his violin again.

 

“I-,” Joan thought, wandering towards the kitchen, “I was making a cuppa before I turned on the telly.” On autopilot, Joan navigated to kitchen, swiftly making preparing a pot of tea. She placed the kettle on the burner when a flash of bright light appeared and she was gone.

 

In an instant, John walked in the door. Noticing the simmering kettle as he plaved his coat on the rack, he looked at Sherlock in amusement. “Had a friend over while I was at the shop?” He quipped.

 

“Oh yes, a blonde woman, you two would have gotten on swimmingly.” Sherlock smirked.

 

“Swimmingly, eh?” John asked, taking a chipped cup out of the cabinet as the kettle came to a boiling whistle.

 

“Oh yes, no doubt in my mind you two would have been regular peas in a pod.” Sherlock smiled, idly strumming the e string of his violin.

 

“What a shame I missed her then, fancy a cuppa?” John asked, moving into the living room with a cup of tea in each hand, a smile painting his face as joined Sherlock on the sofa. 

 

Sherlock gratefully took the proffered cup as John joined him. The two men cuddled into each other, sipping their earl grey in peaceful silence before Sherlock turned thoughtfully to John. 

 

“You know I love you right?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Of course I know you love me, you’ve kept me, a boring old normal bloke around for this long, haven’t you?” John joked, chuckling into his tea.

 

“It doesn’t bother you that we haven’t made it official? You know, gotten married?” Sherlock asked, shifting his position on the sofa.

 

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t really care about the “officiality” of our relationship, Sherlock, I love you.” John responded, a soft and slightly concerned smile playing on his lips as fond eyes raked over the tall brunette.

 

“Hm…” Sherlock mumbled into his tea.

 

“Sherlock, love, what’s bothering you?” John pressed gently.

 

“Nothing, I suppose.” Sherlock sighed, thinking distantly about the velvet box hidden in his robe pocket. “Nothing, really.”


End file.
